Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Gabe furrowed his brow; then the corner of his mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile. “I’m not going to punch you, Der. I—fuck. I should go.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you around.”
He moved to the doorway and gave me a thorough once-over. In my current messed-up state, I wanted to believe he was admiring my abs, but fuck only knew what he was really thinking. He was guarded and serious-looking, kinda like he was in the pool. I knew what to do in a game, but not now. I was lost.
“See ya.”
I inclined my head and watched him disappear. I listened to his footsteps on the hardwood floors, the sound of the front door opening and then closing. And then nothing. I let out a ragged sigh and turned to face my reflection.
Oh. My. God. What the fuck did I just do?
2
A light marine layer clung to the shoreline Sunday morning. I hoped the sun would burn through within the hour, though the gray skies fit my mood better. I tugged the brim of my baseball cap as I sipped my coffee and scanned the outdoor seating area. Weekends were always busy at Savvy Bean. It was a hipster coffee bar with a cool vibe that appealed to students, artists, and young professionals.
My gaze traveled from a pink-haired girl I recognized from school to a well-dressed gay couple at a neighboring table. I noted their fingers entwining over their coffee cups and the way their knees touched under the table. They looked in sync and in love. The instant pang of longing surprised me. I didn’t understand it. Long Beach had a strong LGBTQ presence; I saw same-sex couples every freaking day and never thought twice about it. Until now.
Now…everything felt different. Or maybe I was just hungover and operating in a vodka-infused fog that conjured rainbows everywhere I went. After last night, anything was possible.
I glanced up when Chelsea set her cup down and flopped into the chair across from me. “You don’t look so good.”
She lowered her giant round sunglasses and glared at me. “Don’t mess with me, Vaughn. I should still be in bed. I’m only here because you begged me to meet you.”
“I didn’t beg you,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Chelsea pushed her glasses into place and sat back. “No, but you said it was important. What is it?”
I stared at her chipped red nail polish and the jumble of silver and gold bands on her fingers. No one did boho chic quite like Chels. She had a talent for making thrift store finds look like haute couture. Today’s floral print ensemble was a perfect example. On anyone else, it would have looked like a tablecloth doing double duty as a sundress. The Fedora and big-ass sunglasses completed the picture. Her olive skin might have been a shade paler than normal, but she rocked a hangover in style.
Way better than I did. I didn’t dare check my reflection. I felt like shit. There was no need for visual confirmation. I’d lain awake most of the night, analyzing what had gone down in my bathroom with Gabe. One second I was wracked with fear and regret and the next, I had my hand on my cock as I mentally replayed what had to be the sexiest hump session I’d ever experienced. I hoped some semblance of normalcy would return in the morning. The guilt and regret would probably be there, but it would be nice to feel like myself again. Preferably the version of me that didn’t make passes at a hot guy.
But the memory wouldn’t fade. I hadn’t wantonly rubbed against any ol’ guy in the heat of the moment last night. No. That was Gabe Chadwick’s cock. Gabe. My archnemesis and new teammate. The enormity of the mess I’d made hit me like a proverbial ton of bricks this morning. I’d opened my eyes, darted out of bed, and promptly vomited. Then I’d brushed my teeth ten times and texted Chelsea.
I sipped my coffee and thought about how to word my confession. I wasn’t sure how much I should say, but I couldn’t do this on my own and I couldn’t tell Evan. He was a great guy and I trusted him with my life, but he wouldn’t understand. Chelsea had a ton of gay friends. Like Mitch. Of course, I was nothing like him but—
“Derek.” Chelsea waved her bejeweled hand in front of my face and snapped her fingers.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s up.”
“Well, I’m…” I bit the inside of my cheek, then leaned forward with a serious expression. “Something weird happened last night.”
“You mean Rory and Jenna? OMG. I know. They were a disaster!”
“Huh?”
“Complete train wreck,” she huffed. “They had sex in the bathroom and then again in my roommate’s bed. Loudly.”